


Midsummer

by White Aster (white_aster)



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Animal Death, Established Relationship, F/M, Hunters & Hunting, Interspecies Awkwardness, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, May/December Relationship, Older Woman/Younger Man, Rites of Passage, Turians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 05:00:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20522336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_aster/pseuds/White%20Aster
Summary: While picking up some materials for the war effort, Garrus shows Shepard and James how turian festivals make for excellent shore leaves.  What happens on Invictus stays on Invictus, right?





	Midsummer

**Author's Note:**

> This is utter, spa-episode-level self-indulgence, is what this is. If you're looking for high-tension, tightly-woven plot and such, I suggest looking elsewhere. If you're interested in slice of life character stuff, snarking, and explorations of turian culture, however, come on in. **Many thanks to Kuraiummei, Angelwingsl3, and Some_Writer for their tireless beta-ing efforts on this, as well as their encouragement, without which this fic would probably not have been finished.**
> 
> **WARNINGS**: This fic contains ritual hunting culminating in several animal deaths and a non-graphic scene of animal butchering. This fic also includes a BAMF turian lady very consensually hitting on a human who's like....40 years younger than her. If anyone finds anything else in here that should be tagged, please let me know.

"So," Shepard said as they hit atmosphere and the Kodiak's engines changed pitch, "you suggested bringing a suspicious amount of gear for visiting a settled turian colony world." She looked up from where she was double-checking said gear, her hands flowing over her sidearm on autopilot. "I mean, I know this is the Terminus Systems, but is there something I should know?"

Garrus hummed from the other bank of seats. "Invictus is...nominally a part of the Hierarchy. Mostly," he said, after a moment of consideration. "But...well, we don't really spread it around much, but on Invictus Hierarchy law breaks down on an hourly basis."

Shepard quirked a smile. "There are turians who don't like to follow the rules? I'm shocked. Shocked."

"Ha ha," Garrus deadpanned. "Invictus citizens are born tier one like everyone else, but a lot of them kind of... disappear after their primary education. Some show up for mandatory service, but a lot don't."

Shepard furrowed her brow. "How does that even work? I mean, no service, no citizenship, no government support, right?"

"Right."

"So what, they just opt out of the system completely? They can do that?"

"Sometimes, and yes. It can get complicated, but any adult turian who comes to a Hierarchy world without full citizenship is treated as… a minor, basically. No one'll hire them, they'll need a sponsor just to get housing, and any support benefits they apply for will enlist them straight into service."

Shepard's smile reappeared as she holstered her Wraith and slipped her hand up to the grab bar as she stood. "'Sure, we'll fix your busted liver and that nasty STD you picked up on Omega. Good to have you back, soldier!'" 

The sound from Liara's end of the shuttle started out as a laugh and ended as more of a snort as she tried to cough her way through it. 

Garrus' mandibles twitched in amusement. "We're very _consistent_ in our expectations. Invictus...the first few cities created during colonization are chartered, and those are the Hierarchy foothold here. But this is the Terminus Systems, and Zorya's practically next door. The Blue Suns recruit heavily here, and some turians just give up on the Hierarchy and take to mercenary work, figuring they'll spend their lives here and can make it on their own. At this point, Invictus is probably about two-thirds pirates and mercenaries that the Hierarchy hasn't seen since they were kids, if then. There are entire states off the radar, and the planetary officials turn a blind eye so long as goods keep flowing and no one's actively plotting rebellion."

Shepard sighed, reaching under her visor to pinch the bridge of her nose. Why couldn't anything go smooth? "So you're telling me that this dig might be in Blue Suns territory."

Garrus waggled his hand back and forth a bit. "Possibly? Or maybe just...like that old Earth vid we watched, about the lawman and the outlaw in the…old…." He pointed one way, then the other. "...west! A frontier settlement, a strongman in charge, that sort of thing?"

Shepard sighed, though the image of turians in cowboy hats was amusing as hell. "Wonderful. And here I thought you were just worried that we'd touch down to a mine full of husks, like the old days."

"Ugh," Liara said, shuddering delicately but not looking up from her omnitool.

"Well, that, too," Garrus replied. "It _has_ been awhile. We've got to be due for one of those soon."

"Don't tempt fate." Shepard turned to Liara. "We have any other intel on this town?"

Liara shook her head as she flicked through a few screens. "It's quite remote. I don't have much on it, except some records about other Prothean artifacts they've sold to Broker agents."

"Anything valuable?"

Liara tilted her head, eyes still on her 'tool. "Without getting too technical, yes. Most of the artifacts were quite advanced equipment. Specialized. If I were to guess, I'd say that this was some kind of Prothean research station."

"Sounds like a good place to look for information on building a Prothean super weapon," Garrus mused.

"Agreed." Liara nodded, dropping her arm and meeting Shepard's eyes. "However, as Garrus said, it's in territory that isn't really under control of the Invictan government. And our source for this rumor had an old Blue Suns tattoo, so--"

"Aaah, you noticed that, too," Garrus said.

"--it's likely that this town has mercenary leanings, or at least is in a mercenary-controlled area." Liara's eyes softened slightly in amusement, glancing over at Garrus. "And I notice everything. You should know that."

Shepard worked her bad shoulder absently. "I know this may sound strange after all the Blue Suns bases we've blasted our way through, but I'd really rather deal with this without a fight. No use making the Reapers' job any easier."

"Agreed," Liara said. "With the Blue Suns under Aria's...dare I say 'control'?...we may have a fairly easy time of this."

"Famous last words," Garrus murmured. "And even if this isn't a Suns operation, there's plenty of independent operators on Invictus, too, and if they think we're trying to confiscate their find, it could get dicey." He leaned back against the bulkhead, crossing his arms. "But I agree with you, Shepard. The comm bouys are still functioning here, so they'll have heard about Palaven and Earth. They might be willing to help, or at least looking to cash out before everything goes to hell."

"And I'm sure that the Shadow Broker can make a very reasonable first offer for anything of value they've found," Liara said. "Given their past dealings with him, I should be able to confirm to their satisfaction that I am an authorized agent."

"Works for me," Shepard said, a smile quirking her lips as she headed for the cockpit. "Cortez, anyone talking to us down there?"

Cortez nodded but kept his eyes on his flight path. "Invictus flight control, has cleared us to approach the landing coordinates. I uh… get the feeling that it was more a 'good luck' sort of clearance rather than any real guarantee of a welcome…. Aaand, I'm getting hailed by local flight control now."

"Give 'em the friendlies flag," Shepard said. "We want everyone on the same page here."

"Aye aye, ma'am."

\------------

As it turned out, though the locals were wary enough to try to vet them while they were still circling, all it took was some reassurance that they were looking to buy and a round of confirmations sent via Liara's all-powerful omnitool to get them clearance to land.

"They've got some AA guns there, Commander. Nice ones."

"I see 'em," Shepard replied, eyes on the external screen that was panning over the settlement. "Quite a well-fortified place. Sizable welcome party, too."

Garrus nodded at her shoulder, eyes on the same screen, where a good dozen armed and armored turians were assembling. "They're alert and well-prepared. Wouldn't help them against us, but it would probably deter the average raiding party."

"At least that armor isn't Blue Suns," Shepard said. The image quality was terrible, but she could tell that much.

Garrus squinted at the screen. "Could be local militia. Not strictly Hierarchy, but not merc either."

"I'll take a local police force," Shepard said as Cortez settled them on the ground and she moved beside and a bit behind Liara. "Maybe we've gotten lucky, for once."

"I can't tell if you're being sarcastic or not," Garrus said, stepping up to match her on Liara's other side.

"A girl can always hope," Shepard said, lips quirked.

The Kodiak opened on air so hot and humid it felt like being slapped with a wet washcloth after the conditioned air of the shuttle. It smelled green, full of alien growing things.

Very _large_ growing things, Shepard noted as she stepped out of the shuttle and onto the landing pad. The settlement was nestled just inside Invictus' jungle belt, clear-cut out of the trees like a coin dropped on a green carpet. Shepard didn't want to take her eyes off the welcoming party, but she could see that the trees were tall enough to tower out of her visual range unless she looked up.

The welcoming committee was certainly armed like a militia, ranged around the landing pad with well-kept weapons and cover within easy reach. Professional. The pad itself was a kill zone, which Shepard didn't take personally, given the circumstances. Reapers had made everyone edgy. Besides, the weapons weren't pointed at them...yet. Shepard kept her hands in the open and didn't make any sudden moves, to ensure it stayed that way. She and Garrus hung back while Liara took the lead.

"Good morning," Liara called out as she started forward. She nodded to the group of three unhelmeted turians that appeared to be waiting for them down a short walkway. "Thank you for seeing us."

The group was two females and one male. The females were in armor of a kind but not matching, and the male in what looked like dusty work leathers. One of the females had red colony markings over red-tinged plates. She was taller than the other, her armor heavier, and her plating thicker. Her eyes were more deeply set in a way that Shepard knew meant advanced age. The overall effect reminded her something of Adrien, and not just because of the state of her plates: her markings were full-face as well, though not identical to his. The shorter female, almost white-plated, had spiky blue markings over cheeks and nose that Shepard didn't recognize, and scarring slashing across her browplates. The male was barefaced beneath his visor band and hung back a bit, the only one in sight who was unarmed.

The older female nodded back to Liara. "Always happy to show the Broker's people our hospitality. Looking for some artifacts, are you?" 

"Yes," Liara replied. "A turian on the Citadel said that you might still have several data drives that no one had been able to crack yet."

Shepard saw the male's head cock a bit in interest at that, and he pulled up his omnitool, flicking at something busily.

"What was his name? Your contact." Red asked lightly, her hands at parade rest behind her.. 

"Torus Serculus."

"That asshole. He still working C-Sec?"

Shepard was at the wrong angle to see it, but she could hear Liara's raised eyebrow. "Not unless C-Sec is hiring retirees with Blue Suns tattoos."

Red's mandibles twitched in amusement. "Right. He tell you anything about me?"

Liara clasped her hands in front of her, smiling slightly. "He said that you are, and I quote, 'a crusty old bitch' but that you'll deal with us straight."

"He would." Red looked over at White, who nodded and tilted her head in a variety of turian shrug. Red returned it and then nodded back at Liara. White turned away, gesturing a Hierarchy all-clear hand signal to the surrounding welcoming committee, and the tension around the landing pad dropped about five notches. "All right, so you're here to do business. Good. I'm Praesul Ragna Foculus, and I'm the closest thing this place has to a mayor. This is Imago Agnosco, our resident expert on pulling money out of the ground. We got data drives they'd be interested in, Mago?"

"Oh, yeah," Mago said, still working on his 'tool. "You want inscrutable black boxes, we got a whole rack full." He flicked a finger with finality. "Here, take a look."

While Liara pored over the list, Ragna shifted on her feet and said, "Glad to see that business is still alive and kicking even though the galaxy's falling apart, or so I hear. Haven't seen a buyer for weeks."

"Have you had issues with pirates? Your security is quite intimidating," Liara asked idly, her omnitool blooming several colors as she paged through whatever Mago had sent.

Ragna drew back her mandibles to show some teeth. "Didn't say they weren't looking to take something, just that they weren't buying. Sorry if we made you nervous, but we just got the landing pad cleaned up from the last human shuttle we had to deal with."

"Let me guess: white armor? This logo plastered all over everything?" Garrus flashed the Cerberus logo up into the air with his omnitool.

"Uh huh, that'd be them. Not friends of yours, I hope."

"Quite the opposite," Shepard said. "They're a radical terrorist group. We're not sure of their agenda, but they're absolutely not aligned with the Alliance."

Ragna spread her hands, tilting her head in a shrug. "Couldn't care less about human politics, but they come to take what's ours, they get blown to ash. That's the rules. Plain and simple." 

Shepard nodded, very aware of her body language. She had never realized before how many human and asari gestures Garrus had picked up until now. Ragna's body language was all very turian-style--head tilts and hand gestures rather than human shrugs and facial expressions--rather than the multicultural mishmash more common in Citadel space. Shepard remembered at the last moment not to show her teeth when she smiled. "My policy exactly."

Liara finally looked up from her omnitool. "I'd like everything, please." She flicked a few more keystrokes and then dropped her wrist. "I trust that this will be sufficient?"

Imago's arm dropped in surprise, before rising again to viewing height. Turians didn't widen their eyes in surprise like humans did, but his mandibles were _jiggling_ in a way that was slightly comical.

"Everything?" Ragna looked over at Imago, who showed her his screen and made an aborted but very excited gesture. She looked back at Liara, then back at the screen. "...All right. What's the catch?"

"No catch," Liara said. "We're just… in somewhat of a hurry."

"I can see that," Ragna said, still staring at her evenly.

Imago turned away from them, murmuring something inaudible to Ragna, who hesitated a moment and then replied, "Huh. Yeah. Go ahead." 

Ragna turned back to the trio as Imago jogged off toward the settlement. "Well, pleasure doing business with you, I guess. Though I gotta admit, dropping that much cash right now is a bit…suspicious."

"Was there a problem with the transfer?" Liara asked, her voice serene enough to indicate that she knew damn well there wasn't, but with enough of an edge to respond to the slight, if that's what it was. Shepard had to admire Liara's ability to convey so much with nothing but tone of voice.

Ragna didn't look intimidated. Or inclined to be rushed. "No, it's there." Ragna's eyes flicked to each of them, then the shuttle, then to Shepard. "I just kinda want to know the story. Broker agent showing up in an Alliance shuttle with a human Alliance officer and a turian so Hierarchy he squeaks--"

"I think--no, I'm absolutely sure that I'm offended by that remark," Garrus said mildly.

Ragna shifted her weight again, more stiffly this time, as if something hurt. "An asari, a turian, and a human walk into a bar…. You three are like the beginning of a bad joke."

Liara looked back at Shepard questioningly, and Shepard stepped forward. "I'm Commander Shepard, Alliance Navy. This is Dr. Liara T'soni, and Hierarchy Special Advisor Garrus Vakarian. Basically, we're fighting the Reapers, gathering materials for the war effort."

Ragna stared at her. "Materials for the war effort… old Prothean servers? No, wait, let me guess," she raised a hand, as if to ward off an answer. "It's _classified_."

"It is, actually," Shepard said, letting a smile creep into her voice. "But it is vital, and we do thank you for your help."

Ragna shook her head slowly. "Whatever. Though…depending on how much of a hurry you're in, and given the truly obscene amount of credits you just spent, we might have something else you'd be interested in."

"I'm listening," Liara said, perking a bit. 

"Mago's just unearthed a door to another room in the ruins. Based on the layout, he thinks there's a good chance it's another work room." She tilted her head to Liara. "Could have more of what you just bought, and, again, given the _truly_ obscene amount of credits you just dropped, we'd be willing to give you first crack at what's inside, if you want to stick around until we get it open."

"How long will it take?" Liara asked.

Ragna scratched at the hide of her throat. "Well, depends. Sometimes we can hack the security, sometimes we gotta muscle through it. Could be a few days."

Liara looked over at Shepard. "I might be able to speed that up. I have quite a bit of experience with Prothean ruins. And we have something of an…expert on Prothean military security who might also be able to help. With your permission of course, praesul." 

Shepard kind of liked these people a bit too much to wish Javik on them, but needs must. 

Ragna tilted her head. "Sure. I mean, we're not going to let you run around unsupervised, but more hands, less time."

Shepard held up a finger, then couldn't remember if that was a turian gesture or not and said more clearly, "Could we have a moment to discuss, please?" 

When Ragna dipped her head in acknowledgement, Shepard gestured Liara and Garrus in for a hushed huddle. "You think it's worth the time, Liara?"

Out of Ragna's sight, Liara's eyes were now alight with curiosity, reminding Shepard of that young researcher she'd met so long ago. "I do. The drives they sold us appear to be encrypted using research-grade military algorithms. I believe my theory was correct, and if they still haven't opened up the whole facility, who knows what it might still contain. We're very close to an ancient eezo deposit, which makes me hopeful that whatever they were researching involved mass effect fields."

"And military encryption, so…military applications," Shepard murmured.

"Exactly." 

Shepard looked over at Garrus, who shrugged. "Ruthless calculus," he said.

She nodded, sighing. Every minute, every hour they spent doing anything was paid for with lives. Human, turian, and otherwise. She hadn't forgotten that, since she'd left Earth.

"We can make the most of it," Garrus said. "The engineers have been begging for a maintenance cycle that would take a day or so anyway, and Temerarus still has some useful resources we can map out for the Hierarchy to mine. It won't be wasted time."

Liara was actually smiling slightly as she flicked through screens on her omnitool, something that lightened Shepard's heart to see. "And we might end up with much more than what they're offering. I'd have to see the layout to be sure, but it's possible that Javik and I could open more than just this one room. If the entire facility is in security lockdown and Javik can lift it…."

"Heh. You'll no doubt make this settlement very happy." Shepard squeezed Liara's shoulder. "All right. I'm convinced. Let's do it."

\------------

While the asari coordinated loading their goods onto the shuttle and the human argued with someone called "Javik" over the comm about how he should be on the shuttle when it returned, the turian wandered over to Ragna as she turned to leave. "May I speak with you, praesul?"

"Sure, if you don't mind walking with me," Ragna said, as she turned toward the admin building. 

He shook his head, gesturing for her to continue and then falling into step just behind her.

Ragna's mandibles twitched in amusement. "Not afraid the lawless Invictans'll attack your friends when your back is turned?" All right, maybe that was a little unfair, but that Palaveni accent and the high-end Armax officers' armor told her all she needed to know about where he came from and what he'd probably been taught about Invictus.

He surprised her by actually chuckling. "Oh, those two can look after themselves."

"Huh." Neither had looked particularly imposing (excepting that shotgun the human carried), but eh, Ragna was the first to admit that she wasn't good with judging aliens. "If you say so."

Helli passed them on the way into the building, turning to call to Ragna, "I left those changes for the Midsummer work details on your desk. And the hunting parties!" before running off herself, probably to that meeting that Ragna had foisted off onto her this morning.

Ragna sighed as they headed inside. "If it's not one thing, it's another."

"It's… spirits, it _is_ Midsummer, isn't it?" the Palaveni said, vocals surprised.

"Starting tomorrow," Ragna said. "Lost track?"

"To say the least. We've been…_busy_." 

His subvocals made that last word complicated and painful, which Ragna could appreciate. She let it drop, pointing into the break room. "Want some kava? It's probably still hot."

He hurried over to the machine with his subvocals thrumming longingly. "_Yes._ Please."

"Heh. That's the tone of someone who's not had in way too long." Ragna rubbed at her hip, pointing out the extra cups when (like always) the rack beside was empty.

"Human ship," he said wryly. "We picked up dextro rations, but…"

"But rations, right. I get you." She huffed a sympathetic laugh as he put a lid on the cup and took a long drink, humming in pleasure. Invictan-grown kava wasn't high-end, but it was about ten tiers better than anything in a ration pack.

The office she shared with her deputies was empty at the moment. Qualia was out there casually keeping an eye on their guests, Hix was likely trying to hack through that door in the ruins, and Helli was off to that meeting. And all of them had left her to deal with the Midsummer festival, the cowards.

Ragna pushed aside Qualia's chair to clear the way back to her own desk. "So… what did you want to talk about?"

"Emergency prep, actually."

She turned to look at him in surprise. She'd expected some kind of question about pirate activity or maybe something about those other humans who'd tried to cause trouble. _Shows what I know,_ she thought.

"You're following the Hierarchy's emergency plans?" he asked.

"The last one I got, before everything went to hell." It was right on top of her desk, too, never far from hand or mind. She passed the pad over to him.

The Palaveni scanned it and hummed in recognition. He scrolled through it one-handed for the length of a long drink of kava as she took a seat. Privilege of age and a shattered-and-held-together-by-pins-and-ossified-omnigel hip, that she was way beyond worrying about rank when it came to sitting down.

"Yep, that's it, all right." He sighed, eyes closing and voice dipping into a surprisingly casual show of weary frustration. "Spirits."

"Problem?" she asked. His subvocals were an odd combination of cheer and fatalism. It reminded her of the battlefield, and it made her uneasy.

"Oh, only that I want you to completely ignore it." He looked like he'd been of a mind to toss the pad back on her desk and then thought better of it, setting it down carefully instead. 

Ragna leaned forward on her elbows, eyes flicking down to the pad and then back up to him. "Why's that?"

"Because you don't have any place in this settlement that'll be defensible. No fortifications you have time to build are going to keep you safe." 

She huffed an incredulous laugh, but stopped when those pretty bright eyes of his just drilled sharp into hers. "...you're serious."

"When the Reapers come--_when_, not if--you need to evacuate the entire town--and every other town you can warn--as quickly as you can into the wind. Send people out on shuttles, skycars, humping it out into the jungle in small groups if you have to. Disperse as far and wide as you can, and be prepared to keep running." His voice was tight, certain, his eyes steady and surprisingly not crazy despite the craziness coming out of his mouth. "Your goal should be to _avoid_ engaging. They're a hive mind. Once one knows where you are, your best defense is to get as far away as possible as quickly as possible. Hide as best you can, and hope they don't find you." 

Ragna stared at him, eyes slitting down, actually _looking_ at him. Wishing she'd paid a bit more attention to the info Invictus Command had sent when the frigate had asked for shuttle flight clearance. Special Advisor, the human had said, but the translator had stripped it of the nuance the title would have had in Turian. His armor was good military Armax-made, heavily modified and heavier than most turians really bothered with unless they were routinely getting shot at by something stronger than small-arms fire. And his arms...she didn't even recognize that sniper rifle on his back, and that said something in and of itself.

So, one of the higher-ranking Special Advisors, which could mean anything from high-level black ops to glorified messenger to some general's bit of fluff on the side. He looked young. Through his mandatory service and off doing something else, but still young. Granted, everyone looked young to her nowadays. 

Blackwatch? Maybe. But riding on an Alliance ship, with that human Commander he'd walked a step behind as if she outranked him--

Shit. The human had even said their names. It just hadn't registered. Human names were all a toneless blur to her, and there were shipfulls of Vakarians.

"Fuck me." Ragna slapped a hand on the desk. Glass rattled from its depths, and why yes, given everything, that was probably a good idea. She opened the bottom desk drawer, pulling out the bottle of Antilles' Best that she kept for especially fucked-up occasions. "You're _that_ Vakarian. She's _that_ Shepard." Ragna set the bottle down on the desk, reaching for her mug and tossing back the kava dregs from earlier to clear the decks.

Garrus Vakarian, hero of the fucking Citadel, just nodded. 

"I don't, on duty…usually," she assured him, getting a claw into the bottle seal and prying it up with a slight pop. “But if you're telling us to cut and run, I get the feeling that I'm going to need this as you explain just how fucked we are."

That got a tired chirp of amusement out of him, at least. She tipped liquid into her cup--then, after a bit more thought, tipped in a bit more. She held up the bottle in a question, and he checked his omnitool, quickly reading and flick-dismissing something, before downing the rest of his kava and thumbing open the lid on his cup so she could replace it with brandy. 

He took one look at the uncomfortable chair she used for visitors and dragged over Qualia's desk chair instead. They saluted each other with their mugs, then drank. The booze slid down her throat like liquid fire with that slight hint of high-end paint thinner that kept it interesting.

Vakarian stared at the mug for a long moment, eyes cutting toward the noise when a group moved past the windows, laughing over the hum of an engine going by.

He looked like the sound pained him. He looked really fucking young and really fucking worried. Someone else might have tried to be comforting, but Ragna was not that someone.

"You don't think we can win," she said, no question in her voice. 

"We can," he said, lowering his chin in determination. "Just not...quickly. And not on the small scale. Not on the scale of one colony, or even one system." He tilted his cup back and forth, then took another drink. "I'll be honest: the Reapers come for colonies like this, there's not much that can be done except to run. Make yourself hard to find. And sometimes even that doesn't work. It's not a matter of tactics or strategy. They drop thousands of husks, mindless cannon fodder, out of the sky. They overwhelm population centers. They'll be coming for the people, remember that. Not the land, not the infrastructure, not the resources. The _people_. Civilian, military, it doesn't matter. _Everyone_ is a target. We as a _species_ are the target."

She sat back, slowly, as the implications of that sank in. It was such an alien way to wage war. So alien that it wasn't even war, just slaughter. That was what he was saying: monsters were coming to slaughter her people. "Fuck."

His subvocals thrummed an undercurrent of agreement. "Everything we're taught about war goes out the window. They kill anyone who resists, immobilize the rest, then capture the leaders for indoctrination. That would likely be Invictan parliament on down, including you and your deputies, if they catch you--"

"Yeah, that ain't gonna happen," she murmured, a snarl of defiance growling under her words. "I'll blow all our brains out first."

"Good," Vakarian said, eyes flat and cold as stones. "If that's all you can do, you do it. I've seen…." His gaze slid over her shoulder, off into space for a second, before he blinked and focused on her again. "I've killed too many things that used to be turians."

The brandy was suddenly sitting badly in her stomach. "They really brainwash people? Turn them into monsters?"

"Yes. They've got capital ships on Palaven right now, turning turians into mindless shock troops by the thousands. Turning bureaucrats into brainwashed slaves that they then send right back out to try to convince people that they should lay down arms." He tipped back his mug, and she offered the bottle again before he'd even moved to open the lid. He hummed thanks. "Invasive nanotech, as best anyone can tell. And that...that's if they stop for you at all. That's if they don't decide your planet's not worth the trouble, see that you're all gathered in a few neat spots, and nuke the place from orbit on their way past to somewhere more valuable."

She stared at him. Nothing she could do about nukes. Probably nothing Invictus Command could do, either. And given the choice between that and being turned into someone else's mindless slave, maybe going out in a fission fireball was better. "Does anyone have an actual plan?" _Or should we all just blow our brains out after the party tomorrow?_

Vakarian swallowed a frustrated hum of apology. "Classified."

Her laugh was half bared teeth. "Of fucking course. Let me guess: something to do with all that Prothean tech you bought?"

He rumbled the flat hum that every turian knew meant "I'm not allowed to answer your question, but I'm pointedly not telling you you're wrong."

Ragna shifted in her chair, pain gnawing at her hip from sitting in one position too long. "I hope it's a good plan, whatever it is."

"It's what we've got." He sat back, stretching his back out from the hunch he'd drawn down into. "It's a long shot, but it's our only hope, because conventional warfare isn't enough. That human out there has brought together the turians, krogan, asari, salarians, what's left of the batarians, and even one very pissed-off Prothean, and right now they're all working together to fight the Reapers. The might of the whole damn galaxy, throwing everything we have at a common enemy...and we're barely slowing them down."

Outside, Ragna heard a crowd walk past. Talking. Laughing. Probably the school letting out early for the holiday.

Her granddaughter was probably out there.

All this time, all those battles. And some nasty black-box nanotech monsters coming after her backwater town was how it might end. What a fucking joke. "So it's a race. You finish your classified thing before they exterminate us all."

"Pretty much."

Ragna sighed and lifted her mug. "If only one stands."

Vakarian lifted his own, his subharmonics grim through his bared teeth. "Only one."

\-----------------

There were few enough opportunities to laugh nowadays, but Shepard had to admit...watching Imago's face when he first saw the Normandy's resident Real, Live Prothean had been priceless. Shepard had been too far away to hear what Javik said, but his scowl and Liara's disapproving lip-purse had been enough to give her the gist. The three of them had headed off for the excavation site in a collective huff, one-third of them starstruck and the other two-thirds grumping at each other, as usual.

"_Shuttle's ready for dust-off whenever you are, Commander_" Cortez said over the comm.

"Copy, Cortez," Shepard said, pushing away from the crates she'd been leaning against. "Just waiting for--" my boyfriend "--Garrus." 

Were they too old for "boyfriend"?, she wondered, idly scanning the landing pad. He called her "girlfriend", but she was the expert on human terminology, not his translator, and she wished there was a more accurate word. "Boyfriend" sounded so fifteen-year-old. "Lover" sounded tawdry. "Partner" was just...vague. Like you were hiding behind that little ambiguity. And "significant other", she thought as Garrus came out of the administration building and headed over, was just dumb. Maybe she should look up what turian words were available. Maybe they had some better ideas.

"Hey," Garrus said. "Foculus offered some bunk space for us to hold down the fort here, if we want. And she insisted that I let you know that there's a festival starting tomorrow, in case any of the crew would be interested."

"Festival?" He'd leaned one shoulder against the crate, close enough he had to look down at her, and she turned a bit to look up at him.

"Yeah, it's one of the bigger turian holidays, Midsummer. Lasts a few days. Tomorrow there'll be a ritual hunt. Day after that there'll be a big party. A feast. A lot of alcohol. Probably an orgy or two. You know…." He wiggled the fingers of one hand. "Holiday things."

Shepard snorted. Turian orgy. Riiight. "Nice of her to invite us."

Garrus sighed. "We had a talk about the Reapers. Then she realized who we are, and…I think she just wants to give us a chance to relax." He looked down at her, then out at the street again, and it took her a second to realize he was nervous. "I uh...I'd like to stay for it, if we have the time for a little shore leave."

She leaned back on her crate again, smiling. "Hard to fill your orgy quota in between all the calibrations, Garrus?"

That got him to relax, even though his eyes still scanned the street with a slow sweep that said "cop" more than "soldier". "On a human ship? Definitely. So uptight, human ships. No live sparring, no fraternization. Next thing, you'll be telling me that even sleeping with the ship's commander isn't allowed."

"Ha! You'll never hear that from me." Her eyes left the street to him and went back to roaming the landing area and the jungle perimeter.

She hadn't been thinking of ordering shore leave, but it wasn't a bad idea. Invictus wasn't exactly a vacation spot, but it was pretty and no one appeared to want to kill them. And really, this was a turian colony, down to the automated systems and those AA guns. It was no less defensible than that party in Anderson's apartment that everyone kept bugging her to have. Maybe more. At least here no one was expecting them. 

"I think everyone's earned some down time," she said, bumping his shoulder with her own as her eyes returned to his. "Consider yourself off-duty, Advisor Vakarian."

"Music to my ears," he chuckled, shifting his weight. "I'd...they'd...." He sighed. "Would you be interested in staying, too?" 

She stared at him for a moment in confusion, then the thought "this is a couple thing, you idiot" hit her squarely between the eyes. "Oh! Yeah, sure. If you...you want me to?"

He nodded, straightening. "It should be fun. Shooting, drinking, lots of food that you can probably eat. Did I mention drinking?"

"You did, in fact."

"Oh, good, because that's key." He tilted his head down, those pretty blue eyes of his holding hers. "And you could use the break."

"Who, me?" she said, innocently.

"Yes, you. Don't think I don't see how you keep standing so I'm covering your blind side, tensing every time something moves within fifty meters."

Shepard opened her mouth to protest but then closed it when she realized that yes, in fact, she was doing both of those things right now, as a skycar whizzing by overhead made her hand slide back in easy reach of her Wraith.

To be honest, she wasn't sure she remembered what being "relaxed" felt like anymore, and something in Garrus' gaze said he knew that. He tilted his head down, murmuring into the space between them. "I've got your back. You know that, right?"

"Yeah. I know that." She rolled her shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension. "Cortez," she said, toggling on her comm again, "Garrus and I'll be staying the night, so toss out our go-bags and you can head on back."

"_Aye aye, Commander._"

"EDI, notify the crew that they can apply for 72 hours shore leave starting now. Evidently there's going to be a hell of a party here day after tomorrow, in case anyone wants to let their hair down. And remind them that this is a dextro-based planet, so they need to bring food if they're sensitive."

"_Yes, Commander_," EDI replied. "_I will coordinate any requests with Lieutenant Cortez_."

"And let Ash know that I'm on shore leave starting now and she's in charge. Tell her not to let being Acting go to her head."

"_Yes, Commander. I will endeavor to keep the hazing to a minimum._"

"_Speak for yourself, EDI_," Joker cut in. "If you'll excuse me, I believe I have a bed to go short-sheet."

"_Go-bags are out_," Cortez said. Shepard looked over just in time to see him dropping their gear out the door and then closing up the shuttle with a wave. "_Heading out. Have fun, Commander_."

She grinned over at Garrus as Cortez lifted off. "I think we can handle that." She cut the comm and turned back to Garrus. "Lead the way. You've done a lot of human things with me. It'll be nice to do some turian things with you."

He chuckled. "Oh, you say that now. We'll see how you feel when we're ass-deep in Invictus jungle tomorrow."

"Fair enough," she said, as they wandered to grab their bags.

\--------------------

Qualia, the white-plated, scarred female from the landing pad, came by their bunkhouse that evening, to give them details about the next day's hunt. It hadn't taken very long. She'd caught them just as they'd ordered takeout and had finished the brief safety run-down by the time it arrived. After that, it was just telling them where and when to show up and discussing weapon and ammo choice. Shepard suspected that Qualia didn't really need to inspect Garrus' Black Widow that carefully, but she could relate. She'd drooled over the gun the first time she'd seen it, too.

"Is now a good time to mention that I don't actually know how to hunt?" Shepard asked, as she pulled the various takeout containers from the bags. There were...a lot of them. But, hey, she was on shore leave. If all she did was order most of the takeout menu, it'd be the tamest shore leave ever.

"Doesn't matter," Qualia replied, handing back Garrus' rifle with visible reluctance. "Midsummer's a ritual hunt. Tradition and pack-bonding and community-building and all that. Everyone's expected to treat it seriously, but it's not like you need to be an experienced hunter to go. If we're really lucky we'll actually bring back some meat, but it's to real hunting what Armax Arena is to combat."

"Doesn't seem like a very efficient way to get food for the festival. That's the point, right?" Shepard asked, upending one of the bags to send sauce packets raining down on the table.

Garrus nodded, coming back into the common room with silverware from the kitchen. "Traditionally," Garrus said, heading to the locker room to stow his weapon. "In the old days it was to provide food for the whole settlement." The clang and beep of a closing locker, and he wandered back in. "Nowadays it's mostly to provide something to roast over a fire while we eat prepared food like civilized people."

"Ah, " Shepard said, smiling. "Barbecue transcends cultures. Everyone started out burning things over fires, I guess." The cheap disposable silverware was all in one bag and numerous enough that evidently they'd thought the order was for an entire platoon. The forks were turian-styled, of course, so they were practically skewers and the grips were larger and a bit oddly contoured for human hands. Not that Shepard was going to let that get between her and her sauced jora. It smelled fabulous: meat in a spicy-sweet meat sauce with some extra charred-meat umami.

The ability to enjoy turian food was not the best part of undergoing the neverending course of dextro allergy desensitization shots, but it was a close second. 

"It's also tradition," Garrus said as he joined her at the table, "to put all the kids and really bad hunters in one group, then send them out after the _real_ hunters have set up somewhere. Drives all the game right toward them."

"Aah, I get it: I'm in the kiddie squad." She stabbed some jora and carefully maneuvered the extra-long fork to her mouth, eyes on Garrus. "You've done this before. You going to go hunting with the real adults?"

Garrus shrugged and shook his head. "Last hunt I did was ten years ago. On Palaven. On the veldt. I've never hunted in the jungle before, let alone on Invictus. I _deserve_ to be in the kiddie squad." He broke open a few of the containers Shepard hadn't gotten to yet, hunting for something and then inhaling the scent lustily once he found it. He tipped some tiny sausage-looking things onto Shepard's plate before dumping even more onto his own. "Here, try this. It's spicy. You'll probably like it." 

Shepard obeyed and didn't realize she was mmming softly with her eyes closed until she opened them and caught both Qualia and Garrus looking at her with a distinctly amused tilt to their mandibles.

"I can't take you anywhere," Garrus murmured fondly. Shepard noticed Qualia's head tilt toward him in surprise, though she wasn't sure why, and Garrus himself didn't notice. "Would you like some of this, Captain? Someone seems to have ordered enough food for an army."

Shepard tried to look innocent as she reached for her drink. The delayed-action spice on that sausage was potent enough to make her nose run. 

Qualia contemplated the dozen or so different boxes on the table for a long moment and said, "Sure, thanks. Starving." She headed into the kitchen, running water for a moment before coming back in, wiping her hands on a towel. She grabbed one of the flimsy disposable plates and started loading it with food, claws occasionally used to slice and tear off appropriately-sized servings.

They made small talk as they ate, the topic shifting from the hunt to current events. Qualia told them about Cerberus' latest activities around Invictus, detailing the last attack that had ended with the Cerberus shuttles raining down on the landing pad in flaming pieces. She gave a turian headtilt-shrug. "It's strange. They never paid much attention to us, but what we did hear of them was pretty live and let live, like anyone else in the Terminus. Something change?"

"Now they're not hiding anymore how much they love doing horrible experiments on people, killing civilians, and shoving Reaper tech into their own heads," Garrus said, his tone deceptively light as he refilled his plate. A too-exuberantly-plated sausage rolled off his plate to plop on the table. "Now everyone knows they're the bad guys, so they act accordingly."

"Good, bad...they come to take what's ours, we kill them." Qualia gnawed thoughtfully on a bone, the scraping and occasional bone crack a little unnerving to human ears. She looked over at Garrus. "Ragna filled me in about what you said...you were serious? About running and hiding, if the Reapers come here?"

Garrus nodded, hands stilling in the middle of bringing one of those tiny sweet meatballs he loved to his mouth. "I know it's not very satisfying, but believe me...running is absolutely what you want to do."

"It is what it is," Qualia said, with remarkable equanimity, Shepard thought, given that they were talking about the end of the world. "And you think that the Prothean tech we're digging up could help?"

"We hope so," Shepard said. "Our uh...our experts seem pretty excited about it, at least."

Qualia's mandibles pulled into a grin. "So...that one 'expert'...that's a Prothean? Really?"

"Really."

"Where did you dig him up?"

Shepard chuckled. "Eden Prime, actually."

"No shit?"

"No shit."

"Huh." That seemed to impress the turian, something that Shepard guessed didn't happen very often. "There any more of them out there?"

"No." Shepard sighed. Back to the Reapers again. Everything always came back to the Reapers. "Eden Prime was where the Protheans made their last stand. He was the only one left in stasis there. Last of his kind."

"...huh." Qualia adjusted her bite on the bone, slow pressure cracking it between her molars. "Explains why he's in such a pissy mood, I guess." 

"Oh, believe me," Garrus said, "Javik would be just as unpleasant and abrasive if he had every one of his million Protheans behind him."

"More, maybe," Shepard had to agree.

Garrus thought about that for a second, then nodded in agreement. "More. Definitely more." He stared off into space for a moment, mandibles going slack with horror. "Can you imagine it? A _million_ Protheans? All of them talking about--"

Shepard immediately joined him in parroting a deep, "_In MY cycle!_" before the both of them broke into snorts of laughter.

It took a moment before Shepard realized that Qualia was chuckling, too, eyes flicking between them. "You two are cute."

Shepard blinked at the shift in topic, looking at Garrus and then back at Qualia. "Uh. Us?"

"Yeah." Qualia gestured between the two of them with the remnants of a bone. "You two. Sorry, but if you're trying to hide the fact that you're a couple, you're not doing a very good job of it."

Garrus ducked his head. "Obviously not. Subvocals gave me away, huh?"

"That. And your blunted claws. And the fact that you, Commander, have obviously been desensitized, if you're eating all of this with not a care in the world." The turian leaned back in her chair, smiling. "Plus I'm an old woman who's been around awhile and knows it when she sees it."

Shepard coughed and looked down at her food, feeling her face getting hot even though they had nothing to be ashamed of, thank you very much. "And here I thought we were being subtle. Wait...subvocals? What did I miss?"

Garrus was examining his food as if it might contain the secret of the universe. "I...might have gotten a bit too used to how the translators don't actually translate turian undertones, so....hmm...."

He was embarrassed, Shepard realized. It was kind of cute, if perhaps a little mortifying given the circumstances. Still, she found herself smiling. "So what _were_ you saying behind my back, Vakarian?"

"Well...uh..."

Qualia helpfully cut in. "Something along the lines of 'you are the sexiest damn thing in the room.'"

Garrus hid his face in his hands, a definitely embarrassed whine in the back of his throat.

Shepard chuckled. "Well...I could stand to hear that a bit more often. In appropriate circumstances, of course."

"Of course," Qualia said, mandibles flaring in a smile.

Garrus looked up from his hands, eyes flicking from one to the other of them like a hunted man. A hunted man who was saved by the arrival of James Vega, his go-bag and shotgun slung over his shoulder. He nodded to them all, hovering in the door. "Commander, Scars. Ma'am."

"Vega," Garrus said, obviously seizing on the distraction. "Catching a little shore leave?"

Vega spread his hands, grinning. "I heard there was gonna be some hunting and a fiesta, and I'm all kinds of down for that. Oh, and Commander, we brought down that load of stuff that Liara and Javik were asking for. Esteban's heading back up for the night."

"Great. Pull up a seat, James." Shepard nudged an empty chair with her foot, then tilted her head toward the bunkroom. "You can put your stuff on any of the empty bunks in there."

"Don't mind if I do. Man, that smells good." He headed into the bunkroom, voice trailing behind him. "Makes me wish I could eat any of it. Mmm-mmm!"

Because of the angle they were sitting at, Shepard had a front row seat to how Qualia's deep-set eyes followed James' retreating form, dipping down to waist level and then back up. Qualia caught her looking and wiggled her mandibles in amusement.

Vega returned with his ration pack, taking a seat, and Shepard said, "Deputy Mayor Poronis, this is Lieutenant James Vega, Alliance Navy. James, this is Qualia Poronis, one of the deputy mayors of Lutum."

"Lieutenant." Qualia gave him a lazy turian salute.

"Ma'am."

"You'll be going on the hunt as well, tomorrow morning, then?"

Vega nodded, tearing into one of the ration packs. "I'd like to, ma'am. It's been awhile, but I always enjoyed hunting with my uncle when I was little. As long as you've got room for one more?"

"The more the merrier, always." Qualia shifted in her seat, sitting up, claws tapping lightly on the table. Shepard could tell she was doing something deliberate with her posture, but wasn't versed enough in turian body language to tell what. Until Qualia said, "So...what're you packing, soldier?"

Shepard could hear the extra thrum that the turian put into that, even if she didn't know what it meant. (Though the way that Garrus nearly choked on his drink, coughing hard a few times before reaching for a napkin, gave her a hint.) Still, even to human ears the tone sounded a little...loaded, and watching the way Vega froze, looking up at Qualia like a deer in headlights was enough to make Shepard shove some food into her mouth to hide her smile.

Qualia's mandibles were set in an expression of teasing amusement, though Shepard knew for a fact that Vega wasn't that good at turian facial expressions, so he probably couldn't tell. In the end, the turian took pity on him. "Wraith, right?"

"...oh! Guns! Packin'...right! For the...yeah. Wraith. Good gun."

Qualia dipped her head in a nod. "Good choice. That'll work fine for the hunt. Just pack straight slugs, nothing fancy." Her omnitool pinged, and she checked it, sighing. "Can you give him the safety run-down, Commander? I've got two more stops tonight."

"You got it. Thanks for coming by."

"Thanks for the meal. I'll see you all tomorrow, then. Commander, Advisor. Lieutenant." Again that thrum, on the 'lieutenant'. Then Qualia nodded to them all and left, snagging a last meatbun on her way out.

Shepard slid a look over at Garrus, whose mandibles were twitching as he stifled a smile.

'Old lady', indeed.

\--------------

"You're looking at me like I'm kidding," Garrus said the next morning, as they walked back to the bunkhouse after a "light" turian breakfast of more types of meat than Shepard had ever seen served at once. "I am honestly not kidding."

"So you're telling me that this hunt involves running through a jungle _naked_?" she asked. If it had been anyone but Garrus, she'd have thought they were pulling her leg.

Vega hadn't given Garrus the benefit of the doubt and had immediately gone to the extranet to verify. He sighed, shaking his head and lowering his omnitool. "Isn't this planet like one big turian deathtrap? No offense, Scars, but your species is loco."

If anyone had told Jane Shepard that she'd be spending one of her last shore leaves with a naked Garrus Vakarian...she would have believed them. With him and a dozen other naked turians, though? She'd have been skeptical. Veeery skeptical.

"Hunting on Palaven involves a lot of running, and we're turians: we've got hide and plate and fewer...dangly bits. Clothes only slow us down." Garrus shrugged as they entered the bunkhouse and headed for the locker room. "And on Palaven, it was more steppes and grassland, the occasional stand of trees, none of them trying to poison or strangle us. It made more sense there. But you know the Hierarchy: it's tradition, so what does it matter if it doesn't make sense on an entirely different planet?"

"Well," Shepard said as she opened her locker and started stripping down, "I hope that no one'll be offended if I keep my bra and shorts on, or my 'dangly bits' might put an eye out."

Vega, true to form, gave her a long, appreciative wolf whistle in passing as he headed for his own locker. Shepard rolled her eyes. "Stow it, Lieutenant, or you can take your shore leave back on the Normandy."

"And miss the party? That's cruel, Lola. Cruel. Though, hey--" He leaned in as he took off his shirt, and though she had several remarks ready along the lines of "get it together, we do PT together in less", he surprised her by being serious. "You sure this is safe? I mean, no armor, running off into the jungle with a bunch of armed strangers? All it takes is one indoctrinated agent and…." He mimed pulling a trigger.

She shrugged. "That's all it takes on the Citadel, too, James, and we run around there in civvies. Honestly, given the choice of there and the middle of backwater Invictus, I feel safer here."

"Eh, guess you're right. At least here no one's looking for us, no?" He tossed his shirt into the locker but left everything else on. He pulled out his Wraith and grinned. "Only live once, eh?"

Shepard thumped a fist into one meaty bicep. "That's the spirit. Besides, we've got shields. Guns. And I’ve still got my barrier."

"And us," Garrus said, completely naked except for the Widow braced over his shoulder as he headed for the door. 

Theoretically, Shepard knew that 'naked' was not the same thing to turians as humans, but she'd only seen Garrus unclothed like that in the bedroom, and...yeah. Naked, visor-less Garrus Vakarian usually meant something completely different than "time to go out in public".

Vega muttered, "This has got to be the weirdest-ass shore leave I've ever been on. And that is _sayin’_ something."

"I hear you," she said, as they jogged to catch up.

\--------------------

The weather was surprisingly pleasant, at least this early in the morning. In boots, shorts, and sports bra, it was simultaneously weird to have that much bare skin out in the air, yet also deliciously cool compared to inside a hardsuit.

As Garrus had warned them, the group was mostly youngish turians. Once turians hit the mid-teenage equivalent, they were as big as adults, but the plates were a little thinner and shinier, the hide a little more brightly colored, the faces a little more mobile without the plate-thickening that came with aging. And the idle banter was definitely more juvenile.

That banter stuttered to a halt when they walked up, half a dozen young, naked, armed, barefaced turians turning to stare at them. It made the hair stand up on the back of Shepard's neck for reasons that were partly the unfamiliar situation and partly her having met a lot more unfriendly barefaced turians than friendly. She'd taken for granted that they'd be welcomed on the hunt, but for a long second she wondered if maybe this was a really, really bad idea. 

Then Qualia piped up from the far side of the group. "There you are. Good, we can get started. Everyone, this is Advisor Vakarian, Commander Shepard, Lieutenant Vega. They'll be joining us, and I absolutely expect every one of you to treat them with the respect that those titles command." She tilted her head down, tapping the butt of her Wraith with her claw, _tok-tok-tok_, until every one of the teens met her eyes. "Clear?" 

"Yes, ma'am!" the kids chorused, straightening slightly.

"Good." Her mandibles flared in a slight smile as she met Shepard's eyes. "I also expect you all to warn them if you see them doing anything dangerous in the jungle. They're not dumb, but they're not local, either, so no letting them wander into a horok nest or piss on a tepesh or walk into any tangleweed or such. Clear?" 

"Yes, ma'am!" 

"Uh...do I wanna know what any of that is?" Vega asked, leaning in to mutter to Garrus.

"Probably not," Garrus said, craning his head back toward Vega to reply. "I don't even know what that is."

"Don't worry," Qualia said, mandibles flaring wider. "We'll keep you safe." She patted the utility belt around her waist. "And if not, I've got antidotes for anything we might run into."

"Oh, that makes me feel better," Garrus said to Vega, then turned to the kids. "You'll all carry us home when we get killed by the wildlife, right?"

That got a laugh. The kids smiled, chuckled, or snickered, and the bravest ones gave him cheeky "yes, sir"s. And just like that, they were teenagers again, shifting restlessly on their feet, ready to get moving. 

The hair on Shepard's neck laid back down. Had he seen her tense? Had he broken the ice on purpose? She couldn't tell, and he wasn't looking at her at the moment.

"All right, troop," Qualia said, starting to point people where she wanted them. "I'll take point. Illavus, then Nitia, then the rest of you. Catellus, take up the rear. Fall in."

Everyone fell in, Catellus (one of the tallest males) taking his place behind the humans. Shepard did not miss how Garrus moved, arranging them so Vega was in front of her and he was behind. His expression was a bit knowing as he met her eyes, and right there, in the middle of Invictus, her heart did a tiny, ridiculous squeeze.

_Always has my back,_ she thought, as they straightened their line up a bit and Qualia gave them their final orders.

"Illavus and I will track," Qualia continued. "Once we find something, we might have the group split up, depending on how big it is. If that happens, just follow who you're told, stay quiet when you're told, and shoot things _only when you are told_." She stared hard at one particular young male who shuffled his feet shamefacedly. "Once something's down," she continued, "we'll make the call about who finishes it off, if it needs it. Don't worry, everyone'll get a turn. Then we either take it with us, if it's small enough, or we might leave it trussed in a tree to get on the way back, if not. Around midday, we'll turn around and head back, getting back here before sundown. Clear?"

"Yes, ma'am!" 

"Good." Qualia settled her gun into its holster on her back. "Now, one last thing, to the newbies in the group--not you and yours, Commander, the kids I mean--I know we're turians, but for the spirits' sakes, nobody do anything stupid. This is a ritual hunt, not a test. All usual teamwork and firearm safety rules apply, and stay with the group. Clear?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"I can't hear you. _Is that clear_?"

"_Yes, ma'am!_" Qualia had so much drill sergeant in her that Shepard heard Vega join in.

"All right. Move out." Qualia turned, heading toward a well-worn path of black dirt leading into the jungle. "Oh, and Commander, that shield you've got should deal with the long caimans, but everyone be on the lookout for them, especially from above. Off-worlders always forget to look up."

"Long caiman?" Shepard's translator had made a game effort, but was obviously coming up short. She shot a look at Garrus, who just shrugged. 

Qualia's look back at her showed a touch of sadistic tooth. "Long armored lizard crossed with a snake crossed with an insect with way too many legs. Little ones're only about as big as your arm. Older ones get as big around as your friend's leg--" Unfortunately, the friend she nodded at was Vega. "--and as long as you are tall."

Shepard did a quick mental picture of what the turian was describing and was very glad she had both a barrier and shield generator. "Venomous?"

"No. Well, not to turians at least. Most're smart enough not to go after people bigger than they are."

"Will we find any hippania, Sergeant?" one of the younger turians asked. 

"Might, once we get to the veldt," Qualia said, machete slicing out to take down a thick purple vine that dangled down into the path. "Though only Vakarian has rifle enough to take one down."

Garrus leaned in to murmur, "Hippania I know. They're big...uh...horses? No. Deer? Quadrupeds, thick skulls, fringes...antlers?"

"...moose?" Vega suggested.

"Yes, like that. But bigger. And lizards."

Vega stopped and turned, staring at him. "So...a dinosaur."

Garrus was silent as he thought about that for a moment, evidently comparing that to whatever he knew about dinosaurs. (Shepard wasn't sure why he knew _anything_ about Earth dinosaurs, but he did, and she suspected it had something to do with Grunt's fascination with them.) 

Garrus finally nodded. "Close."

Vega looked at Shepard, as if she knew any more about Invictan wildlife than he did. He did not look reassured when she just shrugged. 

Obviously, Shepard thought, this was going to be an interesting day.

\----------

Invictus, for all that it was ridiculously hostile, was also incredibly beautiful. Shepard had never before been around so much wildly concentrated green. Her eyes felt almost dazzled by it, used as she was to the grays and tans of urban and ship life. And the place was just riotously _alive_. Birdlike creatures in varying shades of green and black and yellow flitted from tree to tree. Large, glossy snakes in mottled blacks and browns wove their way up and down trees. Industrious carrion bugs as big as Shepard's hand scuttled through the underbrush and occasionally over her boots. Vines burst with incredibly beautiful (and incredibly poisonous), fluted flowers in purples, reds, and yellows. 

They had to hike for a surprisingly short while before they found their first prey. Qualia held up a hand, and the line crept forward, then stopped. Qualia then passed a message down the column, bringing one of the teens up to the front, where the girl took aim with her light rifle and let loose. Her shoulders slumped, but Qualia said something urgent-sounding to her, and the girl raised her rifle back to her shoulder, firing again, and then again. She perked after the final shot. "I got it!"

"See?" Qualia said. "Doesn't matter if you kill it on the first shot or the tenth. Never stop firing until either it's down or you don't have a good shot anymore. Good job. Go collect it."

"Thank you, Sergeant," the girl said, then headed off, grinning, to fetch her kill. She returned with a dun-colored furred thing that looked like a cross between a weasel and a squirrel. It almost looked cute until Shepard saw that the elongated snout held a double-row of wickedly sharp teeth.

She said as much and Garrus shook his head. "Invictus: trying to kill you in as many ways as possible."

He wasn't kidding. Several times the Invictans specifically pointed out dangerous insects or animals. Once they detoured around a certain copse of trees, because the pollen was even more violently allergenic to turians than the rest of the plant life. Other times, it was "tangleweed" that had grown into the path and needed to be stepped over. The deep green, dagger-shaped tendrils tipped in blood red were beautiful in a deadly, alien kind of way. One time, the sticky-looking growth was wrapped tightly around the foot-long, half-digested corpse of something that hadn't been as careful of where it walked, corpse and plant both giving off a bitter-acid scent that made Shepard cough when she got a whiff of it. 

Shepard had her close and personal experience with the jungle wildlife when they stopped for a bathroom break. Luckily, the long caiman waited until after she had her shorts back up to dangle down off a branch and try to take a bite out of her. Her shout (and it was a shout, she insisted, not a shriek) brought everyone with admirable speed, and they arrived just in time to see the creature go flying, flung with such biotic-infused force that it splatted against a tree trunk twenty meters away.

Qualia looked at the still-wiggling pieces, and said, "I'd say you won, Commander. They're not good eating, but it counts."

"Congratulations," Garrus said, patting her on the shoulder. "You're officially an adult now."

Shepard laughed, the adrenaline slowly draining. "Mom'll be so proud." 

As they carried on, the jungle certainly didn't lack for game. The young turians took turns firing on more of the weasel things, a large lizard, and something that looked like a tiny goat with four eyes and two thick tusks. Most of them hit their targets and proudly carried their kills with them. 

One time, a few hours in, Qualia gestured Shepard and Vega both to the front and pointed. On the other side of a clearing they were skirting, near what looked like a spring, was a large, vaguely feline-looking quadruped with mossy-green fur, long black-tipped ears, and black paws.

Qualia leaned in to whisper, "Good angle, if you want it. Hit an eye, or back of the skull."

Shepard gestured for Vega to go, breathing, "Already got my bug thing."

Vega looked at the creature as it stretched a bit, muscles rippling as it idly clawed up the branch it was standing on, and leaned over to whisper to Qualia. "They good eating?"

She cocked her head at him. "Sure. Good roasted, with some jora sauce."

Vega nodded, apparently satisfied, took aim, and waited until the creature turned so he could get it right in the eye. It slumped over, dead before it hit the ground. 

Qualia gave an impressed chirr, as did some of the kids. "Nice shot."

"Aw, yeah." Vega grinned, and Shepard offered him a fistbump. "So, we string it up?"

Qualia nodded. "Unless you want to carry a hundred pounds the rest of the day."

"Nah, I'll pass. I mean, I could. But I'll pass."

"Mmmmhmm," Qualia hummed, and again there was that thrum, just on the edge of hearing, which Garrus had confirmed last night was, indeed, a definite sign of…_interest_. "Why did you want to know about eating them?" the turian said as she and Vega headed off toward the cat. 

Vega shrugged. "S'just...they remind me of bobcats back home. Some people kill 'em just for sport, but my uncle always said, if you're not gonna eat it, don't kill it--"

Shepard missed the rest, and Qualia's reply, as they walked out of earshot. She stretched, slapped at a bug on her shoulder, and smiled at Garrus as he came to stand next to her. "So," she said, quietly, so as not to give the teenaged turians around them an earful, "are we laying bets?"

"On them?" Garrus asked, eyes flicking over to the "them" in question. "I don't know...that's a tough one. She's obviously a woman who gets what she wants, but...this _is_ Vega we're talking about. I don't even think he knows he's being hunted yet."

Shepard rolled her neck, chuckling. "Yeah, I'm with you there."

"Would he even be interested? I mean, you obviously were willing to give it a whirl, but--" He let dangle unsaid, but Shepard knew: it wasn't common, or generally accepted. Shepard had been mildly surprised that, with the galaxy crumbling, people were worrying about who she was dating, but her extranet inbox definitely said that they were. A lot of the messages had been positive, but she'd also received her share of hate mail. EDI helpfully quarantined those so Shepard wouldn't be blindsided by them, but she'd looked at the folder once and regretted it. Because it was also surprising that--again, _with the galaxy crumbling_\--some people could still find time to be hateful and bigoted.

She wondered, suddenly, if Garrus got those sorts of messages, too.

Shepard waved at another bug that was circumnavigating her head. "I have no idea. I know pretty much zero about James Vega's love life."

"Hmmm," Garrus hummed, watching as Qualia and Vega made short work of tying up and suspending Vega's kill from a convenient branch. "Well, I feel the need to bet on the home team."

When he didn't continue, Shepard said, "...the turian home team, or the Normandy home team, or the guy home team, or…?"

"Haven't decided yet."

She huffed a laugh.

In the clearing, Vega laughed as well, obviously at something that Qualia had said. Shepard shared a significant look with Garrus as they rejoined the group and Qualia rounded everyone up. "All right, troop, head out." The turian nodded down the animal trail they were following. "Just a bit further, and we can stop for lunch. You can argue amongst yourselves about whose catch we're cooking."

\----------

"Just a bit further" brought them to the edge of the jungle. Shepard blinked at the sudden, blinding light of the noon sun as they came out from under the canopy. "Oh," she said, brought up hard at the abrupt transition from almost claustrophobic jungle to open grassland. Like everything on Invictus, it was beautiful--the trees petering out down to a long, wind-whipped sea of grey-green grass that looked like it transitioned into desert in a few miles. 

Qualia wrangled the young hunters into pulling out the portable stoves and setting up for lunch in a cleared spot on the ridge above the plain. A meal at the end of the hunt was evidently tradition, though Garrus admitted that the little portable eezo stoves were a more modern addition. "Can't say I blame them, especially here," Garrus said, talons scratching industriously under his mandible. "Nice place to visit, but I feel like I need a shower." He coughed, then sneezed, then reached for his canteen. "And an antihistamine."

Shepard patted him on the shoulder. "Just a little longer, big guy."

"Honestly," Garrus said as they headed toward the erstwhile camp, "I don't know how Invictus manages to be so unpleasant in just about every--oh."

"Oh?" Shepard stopped her admiration of the wind making corkscrews in the grass and looked back at him, finally catching sight of Qualia, who was pointing out across the plain in the same direction Garrus was staring. Shepard squinted at a slightly darker shape out in the grass as Garrus pulled his rifle off his back, sighting through his scope. "Is that...an animal?" she asked.

"Heh," Garrus said, handing his rifle over to Shepard. "Take a look. See that, Vega? That's a hippania."

"Yeah?" Vega jogged up behind Qualia, all four of them looking out over the grass now and starting to draw the attention of the kids. Qualia handed him a spotting scope, and a few moments later, he said, "Yep. That's a dinosaur, all right."

Through Garrus' scope, Shepard had to agree. The size was hard to gauge by eye, but the hippania was scaled, heavily muscled, and with a long, heavy tail that whipped from side to side, lashing the grass. It strode unhurriedly across the veldt, nosing at the ground. As it raised its head, Shepard saw a crown of what looked like short, spiny feathers on its head, and a heavy, crocodile-like jaw filled with wicked teeth. Another hippania wandered up to the first, opening its jaws in some vocalization she couldn't hear. "How big is it?" Shepard asked, handing the rifle back to Garrus.

"They're about 4 meters high, about 7 long, Maybe...1500 kilos." Qualia said. "Get a bit bigger when they're older. The big one's a young adult, male." She took her scope back from Vega, adding for the humans' benefit, "So, it's not taking care of young and is fair game." She tilted her head to look at Garrus. "Well? Going to take a shot? The neck or eye's the best way to go, with them."

Shepard chuckled. "1500 kilos? How will you get it back?"

Qualia's hands and head tilted in a shrug. "For that much meat, I'll call in a sledge. Save Vega hauling his doros back, too."

Garrus was already moving, eyes sweeping the ground.

Vega looked at him, then Qualia, then back at the unsuspecting hippania. "Are you serious? You are good, Scars, but that's what...three klicks?"

"So you don't think I can do it?" Garrus asked, pulling up a few tufts of grass, kicking a few rocks out of the way, and laying down in the dirt. The single-minded focus he put into the process was kind of hot, Shepard thought. The flex of muscle beneath the hide of his back and legs as he dug the talons on his toes into the dirt didn't hurt, either.

"I think that's a fucking three-klick shot, with wind."

Garrus checked his scope. "3.17, actually." 

"Confirmed," Qualia said, spotting him through her own scope again.

Garrus shifted a bit, one leg cocking up at the knee as he set up his shot. "I'll bet you a bottle of Hesperix brandy I can drop it in one shot."

Vega squinted down at him. "Uh huh, and how much is that?"

"100 creds or so."

"You got expensive taste."

"Something about your money and your mouth?" Garrus' voice was mild. Shepard's eyes flicked over to where the rest of the hunting group had gathered silently on the ridge, eyes and another few scopes trained either on the hippania or Garrus.

"All right, all right. You are on," Vega said.

Garrus hmmmed meditatively, stock still, eyes on his prey.

The wind picked up, deliciously cool on Shepard's skin. She felt a tickle on her calf, as of tiny insect legs, but just gritted her teeth, eyes on the far-off animal. _The things I do for love._

The wind died. The hippania shifted, head lifting, and Garrus fired, the Widow's report loud on the silent ridge.

Shepard shook her still-itching leg without looking, not particularly wanting to see whatever had been trying to scale her.

By the time she dislodged the whatever-it-was, the hippania had fallen, its friend had taken off at a gallop across the grass, and the teens were cheering like biotiball fans seeing a winning goal. Qualia trilled in appreciation. "Clean shot through the eye. Down and dead. Impressive, Vakarian."

Vega shook his head, obviously mourning his 100 credits. "Hol-y shit, Scars."

"And that's how it's done," Garrus said, pushing himself up from the dirt and then running his free hand down his dusty hide. "I'll expect that Hesperix next time we're on the Citadel, Jimmy. Or, y'know, ASAP, if you can find it here."

"Cuttin' into my beer money, man," Vega said, not sounding terribly upset about that, as he gave Garrus a grin and a fist-bump.

Everyone headed toward the stoves again, Shepard grinning up at Garrus as they fell a bit behind. "Nice shot."

"Mmmm…" Garrus leaned down, nuzzling into her hair. "Between you and me..." he murmured.

"...you were aiming for the neck?" she whispered.

"I was aiming for the other hippania."

Shepard laughed, shoving his shoulder. "You were not."

"All right, I wasn't." Garrus slung his rifle back onto his back, mandibles parted in a wide smirk. "I am, indeed, just that good."

"No argument here." Despite the heat and the sun, Shepard found her hand settling on Garrus' back. He tilted his head down, still smiling, and she was suddenly very aware of the rest of the group back by the stoves, out of earshot but well within sight. "Think we'll scar any of the kids for life if I kiss you?"

"Probably," Garrus murmured, hands settling on her shoulders, then skating down her arms. "I think you should do it anyway."

"Well, if my cultural advisor insists," she said, tilting her head up.

"I'll have them send any therapy bills to---mmmmmm."

Shepard smiled, turning the kiss into a rolling forehead-nuzzle. Despite his stated desire to traumatize the Invictans, Garrus kept his hands very properly on her arms.

The sun was shining, the wind was blowing gently, Garrus was here, and no one was trying to kill her. This was officially the best shore leave in recent memory. When she pulled back a bit and said so, Garrus snorted. "You have such low expectations. Someday...."

"Hmmm?"

He shook his head a bit, voice wry. "I was going to say that someday I'll show you a _real_ vacation, but I'm not sure I even know what that is."

"Not many vacations while you were in C-Sec?" she asked, as they turned to head toward the rest of the group. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw several of the turians quickly turn away from where they'd obviously been staring. Qualia's voice rang out, calling the teens by name to get to work.

"Not really. I'd take a day off here and there, but for a long time...I didn't want to miss time at work." He tilted his head to look down at her. "Hating injustice, and all that. It was a while before I realized that there was way too much injustice for me to make a dent in it."

She bumped hands with him, wrapping her fingers around two of his. "Hey. I know you. I'm sure you made a difference in a lot of people's lives."

He sighed, opened his mouth, then closed it when she gave him a significant look. "...Maybe," he finally admitted, shaking his head. "Not as many as I'd like."

Shepard shook her head. Always the overachiever, she thought. But she had no place to talk. As much as she pushed it aside, she thought probably too much about the time passing, about the lives lost during that time. About the weight behind her every decision. About the price of failure.

The kids were gathered around Qualia, who was giving a lesson on how to skin and clean their lunch. Two of the youngest were jostling in the back, shoving each other good-naturedly to get a better view. Were they friends? Brothers? She didn't know.

Shepard took a deep breath, closing her eyes. All these people...the kids, most of the colony...they had no idea what was coming for them. What could descend from the sky at any--no.

No. They were going to stop that from happening. She believed that because she had to.

"We do our best, big guy," she murmured, shaking her head to clear it.

Garrus was watching her already when she finally met his eyes again, probably following exactly where her thoughts had been. "Always." He squeezed her hand. "And our best is damned good." 

\-------------

Shepard had no idea what the animal she ate for lunch was called, or what the herbs were that Qualia packed it in, but it was delicious, whatever it was. She mmmed appreciatively at the first bite, then, as she was chewing, found herself catching James' eye. "Good stuff?" he asked, already halfway through systematically demolishing his own MRE.

Shepard nodded. "Though...," she paused to pick a bit of gristle out of her teeth. The animal had an odd muscle structure, with little gristly bits between the muscle bundles that kept getting stuck in her teeth. "...at the risk of being a cliche...it does taste a lot like chicken. Blue chicken. But...chicken."

"So this is what chicken tastes like?" Garrus asked, holding up the literal leg he was nibbling on. It was about a foot and a half long, bone and all, complete with charred talons on the end.

"Pretty much," Shepard said. "The texture's about right. And chicken doesn't generally taste like much, which I guess is why other things taste like it." She took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. "It's something about the herbs, too. Kind of like onions and...crap, I can't remember the names."

James leant over, sniffing at the herbs in question experimentally, but eventually just shrugged. "You sure you don't want another piece, Garrus? Not much meat on that thing."

Garrus shook his head, turning the denuded bone in his hands. "This'll be enough. Been awhile since I had a good bone like this." He examined it from a few angles, then opened his mouth and snapped his mouthplates down hard, snapping the entire end of the bone off with a loud crack.

"Jesus!" James said, staring at him. "Did you just _bite_ through that?!"

Garrus tilted his head quizzically, nodding as his jaws worked, moving the chunk back to his molars and grinding at it industriously.

Another, more muted, crack sounded behind them, as someone around one of the other stoves went at another of the legs. James turned just in time to see Qualia snap down on a third.

James raised an eyebrow and looked over at Shepard. "Why did nobody tell me that turians can just straight-up snap through leg bones?"

Garrus swallowed and laughed. "You've never seen this before? Oh, wait, I guess all you've seen me eat was rations, huh?"

"No! I have nev...gah!" He stared in fascinated horror as Garrus took another bite, this time his mandibles flaring out and his mouth opening wide enough to get the whole end of the bone back between his molars and crush it there. Turian jaws actually being longer than humans', it was an absolutely alien move, opening up his face much wider than was humanly possible and showing the sharp, pointed teeth and broad, flat molars that were usually hidden behind his mouth-plates.

Shepard had seen Garrus eat (smaller) bony things like this before, usually when they'd been at places that catered to turians, and it always reminded her of an alligator. Eventually she'd taken it as just another oddity of having an alien boyfriend.

James, on the other hand, looked slightly traumatized. "Scars...sorry, I love you, man, but I did not want to know that your face does that."

Garrus just looked amused as he chewed. "See, this is why I always make fun of human teeth," he said, after he swallowed. "You can't even get at the good parts properly." He tilted the bone, showing the spongy blue bone marrow, and James quickly dug back into his MRE with a bit more relish.

Garrus, because he was Garrus, just grinned as he methodically ate his lunch, claws and all.

\--------

Qualia commed in a request for a truck and sledge while they were packing up their impromptu camp. Evidently it also meant they would get a ride back to town, rather than having to trek back through the jungle, which was fine with just about everyone.

James and Garrus went back with Catellus to get the bobcat-thing that James had killed. As they approached the tree where Vega's doros dangled high above the jungle floor, Garrus said, "So. Vega." 

"Yeah?"

"You do know that she's flirting with you, right?" Garrus got a hand on the rope to steady it.

"What?" Vega's forehead scrunched up as he looked at the knot of rope holding the doros suspended. He hesitated, then tugged on a bit of it experimentally. "Who? Shepard?"

Garrus deadpanned a look at him. "No, Vega, I don't mean my girlfriend. I mean...what _are_ you doing?"

"What the hell...?" Vega was squinting at the knot, now, having tugged on exactly the right loop to make it tighter, rather than looser.

Garrus sighed. "It's a slip knot. Don't they teach you those in the Alliance? Here, let--no!--just let me, before you jam it."

Out of the corner of his eye, Garrus saw Catellus shake his head at the obviously clueless human before going back to watching the forest for anything that might try to kill them for their dead doros. 

"Yes, they teach us knots, Scars, and this is _not_ a slip--" Garrus worked the loop back where it was supposed to be, out of the way, and pulled on the end. The entire thing unraveled, and Garrus pulled on the rope with his other hand as the doros' weight started fallling. He handed the rope end to Vega pointedly. "--huh. Ok, well, maybe this is how turians do slip knots, but this is not how I was taught in basic. Ask Shepard, she'll back me up." He eased the doros down to eye level and Garrus pulled it to the side so they could set it down away from the pool of blue blood it'd drained onto the jungle floor. 

Vega squatted down next to it, waving a few gathered flies away from the doros' ventilated skull and then running a finger over the beast's green fur. "Such a weird color. Ain't no green cats where I'm from, that's for sure."

"Same here," Garrus said, carding his claws through the fur along the cat's neck ruff. Underneath, he could see that the cat's skin was actually black. He wondered if that looked as alien to Vega as it did to him. "Not a lot of furred animals on Palaven. The very last thing Palaveni animals need help with is staying warm."

Vega grinned as he took a capture of the animal with his omnitool and tugged on one of the doros' back legs to muscle it around. "When...if...when I see my uncle, gonna have to tell him about this." 

Garrus didn't know what to say to that, so he just nodded. It was too common nowadays on the Normandy (and everywhere, really): those mental recalculations as everyone realized that they might never see their loved ones again. Some tried to correct themselves, changing their speech to account for the uncertainty. Some stopped talking about their friends and families completely. Some, like Vega, persisted in optimism. Garrus wasn't sure anymore which was worse.

When it was obvious that Vega was about to wrestle the doros up on his shoulders, Catellus made an abortive reach in the human's direction. "Um! You...really should take off the claws first."

Vega stopped, looking at the dead beast, then back at the kid. "Why?"

"Because they're sharp? Really sharp." Catellus holstered his rifle and squatted down beside them, turning one of the paws over. He dragged it over a chunk of vine, demonstrating that yes, the claws could slice through wood just fine. "If you have it on your shoulders, it'll scratch you as its paws bounce around. Here, I can take 'em off." He pulled out his machete, bringing it down in a swift strike that took off the end of the foot. He slid around to get at the rest. "Also, they've got venom sacs that feed to the claws."

Vega pulled his hands away like the doros had bit him.

Garrus sighed, tossing up his hands. "Of course they do. Invictus."

"It's not really bad!" Catellus was quick to reassure them, before returning to declawing. "Especially if it's dead and can't work the venom out. Just...a little. Enough to make you swell up around a scratch." He tilted his head to look at Vega. "Well. To make turians swell up. I don't have any idea what it'll do to a human. Probably not much, if the Sergeant didn't warn you about it."

"Well, that's good, at least," Vega said, his smile showing enough teeth that Catellus was taken aback at what probably looked like a threatening expression. "Thanks, kid. I owe you one."

Garrus hummed an amused, reassuring note in a low register that humans couldn't hear, and the kid just nodded, mandibles relaxing. "Sarge would have my spurs if I let you get some kind of weird allergic reaction to doros venom." He glanced up at Garrus, smiling slyly, but didn't say anything more.

And that, Garrus thought, was a lovely lead-in to the good deed that he'd been trying to do before being distracted by the Alliance's inferior knotwork and the Invictan wildlife. "Speaking of the Sergeant, Vega...like I said, you _do_ know she's flirting with you, right?"

"Y'know," Vega said, leveling a finger at him. "I had a feeling about that. Assumed I was missing half the transmission, if you know what I mean, but I had a feeling! Something with the voice, right?"

Catellus snorted and glanced up to give Garrus a "is this guy for real?" look before returning to his work on the doros.

"Among other things, yes." Garrus tilted his head at him, swatting at a circling fly. "Has she invited you to spar yet?"

"...no?"

"Well, if she does, just be aware that that is the most obvious turian come-on in the book." Garrus smiled, thinking of the story he'd told Shepard. The turn of phrase had likely come from just that type of recreational sparring, but Shepard had seemed a little weirded out by it at the time, so he'd not mentioned how "tie-breakers" in crew quarters were actually incredibly common.

"Heh. Thanks for the tip." Vega turned back to Catellus as the teen put away his knife. "All good?"

"Yeah."

"Gracias." Vega easily hauled the doros up and onto his shoulders all in one motion, which earned him an impressed hum from Catellus. Upper body strength was not a turian strong point, usually.

As they lined up on the trail to head back to the veldt--Catellus leading, Vega and his catch in the middle, and Garrus bringing up the rear--Vega coughed and said, "So. Qualia. Gotta admit, I'm not sure what to do there. I mean...isn't she like...a little old for me? She's some kind of elder, right?"

Catellus turned to cast a confused look at Vega, then another at Garrus, as if he could explain this madness. Garrus tilted a hand at him. "Humans find older members of their species less attractive. I don't know why. Something about their skin wrinkling and body fat sagging."

Catellus recoiled a bit at the idea, side-eyeing the human present. Garrus couldn't blame him. Human skin was weird, and aging humans looked disconcertingly like they were melting. "But…," the teen said, "you get more experienced as you age…." 

The turian word Catellus actually used, "peritus", meant a mixture of "capable", "experienced", and "attractive because of all the above". He had no idea how it translated to Vega, though. Catellus' vocals continued to buzz in confusion. "Why would what your skin does be more important than that?"

They must have hit upon one of those weird intercultural awkwardness things, as Vega looked just as confused. "It...I mean, it's not _only_ about looks. Personality's important and all that, but it's just…." He reached out a hand, sketching some kind of curve in the air. "I dunno, man, the right set of tight curves is just sexy as all hell. Doesn't it work that way for you guys?"

"A bit," Garrus said. "I mean, certain parts are hot spots, but turians find intelligence, skill, and experience just as sexy as looks, and if you're doing it right, then all those things just get better as you age. And physically, we don't change much as we get older. Plating gets a little thicker, we move a little slower, but it's kind of difficult even for turians to tell. Take Qualia. To me she looks anywhere from 50 to 80, but I couldn't guess any better than that."

Catellus turned back and continued walking. "She's about 75. But I only know because she's Praesul Foculus' cohortmate, and the town threw a party for her 75th a few months ago. The praesul, I mean."

"Seventy-five?" Vega stopped in his tracks, staring at Catellus as his voice broke on the last syllable. "She's seventy-_five_?"

The teen shrugged. "Around that, yeah?"

Vega shook his head, starting forward again. "Seventy-five and still kicking ass and taking names. Hope I age that well." Then, after a long moment: "...so...I mean...as turian dudes...you think she's hot?"

Catellus just outright laughed at that, and Garrus said, "As a turian dude, that woman is hot enough that she could likely have anyone in this colony, Vega. And yet, for some reason, she's trying to get _your_ attention. No accounting for taste, I guess."

Vega squinted his eyes. "You wouldn't be messing with me just to make me look like an ass, would you Garrus?"

Garrus pressed a hand to his keel. "Would I do that?"

Vega turned to eye Catellus again. "He's not lying to me, is he, kid?"

Catellus just chuckled, shaking his head. "No. The sergeant is very, very peritus."

A thoughtful "...huh." was Vega's only answer, and Garrus left it at that, considering his good deed done.

A bit later, as they broke the treeline and headed along the ridge, Catellus cleared his throat and asked quietly, "So, Vakarian, sir...you and Commander Shepard really are…?" 

He sounded more fascinated than anything, which made Garrus grin. "We really are."

Catellus' subvocal hum dipped into the deeply impressed range. "Wow."

Vega chuckled, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "no accounting for taste."

Garrus just laughed and jabbed at his shoulder. "My thought exactly."

\---------

Once the guys were out of earshot, trekking back toward the jungle, Qualia stood beside Shepard and watched them depart, remarking idly, "Gotta love human males. They're so...." She sketched a flared-out figure in the air with her claws. "Meaty."

Shepard nearly choked on the water she was drinking, barely managing to keep it to a strangled cough. She drew in a breath, then another before she could trust her voice. "Uh, yeah...Vega is particularly--" She couldn't do it. She couldn't say 'particularly meaty' and not just bust out laughing. "--strong." There. Damn, she deserved some kind of award for that tact.

Qualia's mandibles flicked in a smile. "It's been awhile since I flirted with a human. Am I being too subtle?"

Shepard chuckled. "As his commanding officer, I feel like I shouldn't comment."

"Why? Oh, right, your military has all those invasive personal restrictions about sex." Qualia huffed a breath out, breaking down one of the camp stoves with easy, practiced movements. "Humans. Almost more trouble'n they're worth. Almost."

"I have to admit, I'm kind of surprised you're interested," Shepard said, tucking the empty canteen into one of the packs. 

"Well, I'm not exactly looking for a lifemate, if you know what I mean. Or did you mean the turian-human thing?"

"That."

"Honestly, it's one of the many, many things that's less of a big deal out here than it is back in Hierarchy-controlled space," Qualia said, pausing the conversation for a bit to struggle the stove into its assigned spot in a pack and incidentally teaching Shepard a few new turian curses. "This is the Terminus Systems. We do what we have to out here. Sometimes that means eating each other for lunch, but sometimes it means working with whoever's got what you need, no matter what species they are. And in the Suns, well, you get over that shit really fast, if you want to make it easy on yourself, and believe me, I always want to make it easy on myself."

Even if Shepard hadn't seen the Suns tattoo on the back of Qualia's neck, she'd have guessed. Something about the way the turian woman held her shotgun. "How long were you in the Blue Suns?" she asked.

Qualia drew up a bit straighter, obviously proud. "Ten years, two months, three days. That's where the Sergeant comes from."

"Haven't run into many ex-Suns."

"That's because too many of them are dumb and stay in too long. Think that because they survived this far they're invincible. Me?" Qualia stretched out her foot. Now that she was looking, under the streaks of mud and dust from their hike that morning, Shepard could see the slight color variation in the hide stretched over the foot. Rather like Garrus' rebuilt shoulder. "Got my foot crushed by a YMIR during a, shall we say, extra-close-quarters battle?"

Shepard couldn't help a chuckle. "You know, half the time that's my biggest worry with those things? First worry: heavy weapons. Second worry: the damn thing falling on me."

"Yes!" Qualia tossed up her hands. "Exactly! So, while I was recovering from that, I figured that maybe I should find a safer line of work." She shrugged. "Knew Ragna from my service days, and she said the town was looking for someone to whip their security into shape. Invictus isn't exactly a paradise, but...it's quiet enough."

It said a lot about Qualia that a semi-illegal mining and excavation outpost, which probably saw regular incursions from pirates, slavers, mercenaries, and anyone else looking to steal a few credits, counted as "quiet".

Shepard just smiled and pitched in as Qualia directed the last of the cleanup and told the rest of the group to head toward the downed hippania to wait for the sledge. The two of them hung back, waiting, and as Vega came out of the treeline, his green cat slung over his shoulders, Shepard said, "By the way: definitely too subtle."

Qualia turned to look at her, head tilted thoughtfully.

"Hypothetically speaking. You know."

"Of course. Good to know." The turian turned back to watch the three jogging along the ridge. "By the way. Ragna told me what Vakarian thinks. But just between you and me...how is this war actually looking?" She rose up on her toes idly, pulling the stretch up through her spine. Several somethings popped audibly along the way. "Honestly."

Shepard glanced around, but the two of them were out of earshot of everyone else. She looked over at Garrus and James on the ridge. Garrus was gesturing. Probably giving James shit, from the look on James' face. 

_I remember the people who are important to me,_ she'd told Liara. It was still true. Like Mordin had said...it's hard to fight for the entire, faceless galaxy. But you could fight like hell for a few special people.

"We're outgunned. Outnumbered. They've got the momentum, and conventionally there's not a whole hell of a lot we can do about that." Garrus reached out, poking at James' arm, and James turned to reply, gesturing and nearly unbalancing the bobcat thing on his shoulders. Shepard felt her lips set themselves in a grim sort of smile. "But I've been outgunned and outnumbered before. Just means you find a soft spot and lay into it. They're AI. All connected. Hit 'em hard enough, and they'll all feel it." 

She took a deep breath, then turned. Qualia was watching her, sun not quite reaching back into those wise, deep-set eyes. "We're going to lose a lot of people. But someone told me once that that's a human thing...wanting to save everybody."

Qualia's mandibles twitched into a wry smile. "If only one stands."

"Exactly. We won't save everyone. But we'll save someone." Shepard looked back at the ridge and nodded. "We can do this."

Qualia huffed a chuckle, reaching out to grip her shoulder. "I see why they put you in charge."

\----------------------

The first order of business once they got back to town was getting clean, all three of them stripping down and hitting the bunkhouse's communal shower immediately. Turian barrack showers didn't have partitions between the shower heads, but none of them were concerned about that at the moment, modesty be damned. They all had more pressing matters in mind.

"Trust Invictus to make a morning's walk in the jungle feel like a week-long survival exercise. Ugh," Garrus said, stomping on something skittering across the floor and then sweeping it toward the drain with a clawed foot.

"Yeah. I do not even want to know where some of this is crawling out of," Vega said from Shepard's other side, stomping on a hitchhiker of his own.

Shepard had to agree, as she scratched at her scalp. Three bugs had fallen out of her hair already, and she found herself thinking longingly of the Normandy's proper decontamination cycle.

Once the wildlife seemed to be dealt with and the water was running clean again, she sighed and found her thoughts turning to the evening. And possible strategy. The barracks, much like the showers, showed the standard turian lack of concern for personal space or privacy. They were, luckily, only sharing it with James, but despite life on a warship, Shepard did still have some modesty. About some things. Things that were not necessary by any means but which would be kind of nice to do to her boyfriend while they were on shore leave. "Hey, Garrus? Any festivities tonight?"

Garrus turned, in the process of...apparently digging between two of his thoracic plates with a claw. He stretched up on his toes, tilted to one side, and...pulled out something that wriggled with a grateful sigh before crushing it between his claws.

Shepard reconsidered. Maybe separate beds were best after all.

Garrus didn't appear to notice, just turning into the spray again and tilting his head toward her. "Tonight? Probably. First night of Midsummer's usually for getting together with family and such, but friends'll get together as well. There'll probably be a gathering in the town square, around the barbecue pit as they get the hippania set up to roast. Have to get started on the drinking, after all."

"You hear that, James?" Shepard called over to the other Marine, who had headed back to his clothes and looked to be checking his omnitool. "Booze and fire. You up for it?"

"Don't you know it," Vega said, swiping whatever he'd been looking at away and reaching for a towel. "Though I might have to leave you two to your own devices. You're crushed, I know. I'm sure you were reaaally looking forward to me being a fifth wheel, but I--" he snapped his towel theatrically before wrapping it around his back "--have a date."

Garrus whistled as he stepped back and his shower turned off. He and Shepard shared a grin. "Anyone we know?" Shepard asked.

"A gentleman does not kiss and tell!" Vega called as he left the room. "Or...punch and tell? Whatever."

"Punch?" Shepard asked Garrus.

"I imagine that _someone_ has asked him to a little...sparring match."

"Aaaah, I see." And damn, now that Garrus had sidled up to her, even the thought of bugs between his plates was fast fading as he gave her a long, slow once-over. A quick peek--nope, Vega had taken his stuff to the bunkroom and not likely to pop back in--and she laid a hand on the side of his neck, nails scratching at the hide there just the way he liked. "Y'know," she murmured, "speaking of...."

"Sparring? Mmmm...." Garrus rumbled approval, turning his head to press into her hand. "Sounds like a fun evening activity to me. In keeping with the holiday, too."

"Oh?"

"I did warn you about the orgies," he said, leaning down to run his tongue along her naked collarbone.

"Yo! I'm out of here!" came from the other room, making Shepard jump guiltily, highly aware that she was standing here buck naked and necking with her boyfriend. 

Garrus, surprisingly, was nonplussed, raising his head from her to call, "Don't let her hurt you too bad, James. We do need you combat-ready."

"Oh, don't worry, Scars. I totally got this." A slam of a locker, and then footsteps. "Later! Like...a _lot_ later. Don't wait up!"

Shepard chuckled as they walked into the bunkroom just in time to hear the main door close behind a whistling Vega. "Does he got this, do you think?"

Garrus snorted from behind her. "Depends on what 'this' is. I know he's got no idea. I imagine the evening will be...educational."

Shepard considered, rubbing her towel over her hair. "You know, I've never looked up turian ladies'...equipment. How educational are we talking?"

"It's the same basic idea. Slightly different placement. Different configuration. More chafing."

She sighed. "And here he is without Mordin's special interspecies sex ointment."

Garrus laughed, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Oh, Qualia strikes me as the prepared type. I think he'll survive."

"Hopefully," she said, hanging her towel down on the end of the bed and running her hands back up Garrus' arms to wrap around his neck. "So...."

"Speaking of interspecies sex?" Garrus murmured into the back of her neck.

Shepard shivered as he cupped one warm hand over her breast. "You read my mind. I do notice that we've got this whole bunkroom to ourselves. With these luxurious...tiny beds."

"Mmm...just like basic," he said, rolling her nipple gently between his fingers.

She shivered again, nails scratching at the back of his neck. "You obviously had a much more exciting time in basic than I did."

He chuckled, leaning down, and she leaned her head back, and his tongue reached out to flirt with hers, and the conversation stopped there for a good long while.

\-----------

Much later, after they'd worn themselves out and she'd headed to the bathroom to answer the call of nature, she couldn't resist the urge to check her messages.

One of them was Liara's update on the excavation site. Things were going well. They'd gotten open the door that Ragna had told them about, and it had led in a laboratory with another three doors leading out from it. Mago and Liara were inventorying the contents, while Javik was making headway on getting the entire site to come out of security lockdown.

Shepard opened a direct message window and typed, "Great. I feel kind of bad. Me off having a good time while you're working."

"You deserve a rest, Shepard," Liara replied a second later.

Shepard leaned against the wall, fingers tapping out, "You too. Any time to come to the party tomorrow? Sounds like it's going to be a seriously good time."

"Maybe. Once Javik is done sweet-talking the AI tonight, there will be a final layer of security that EDI will need to brute force through. EDI thinks it'll take twelve hours or so."

Shepard smiled as she typed, "For the record, the idea of Javik sweet-talking anything is hilarious."

A long moment and Liara replied, "Did I say sweet-talking? I meant cursing at. The AI's processing matrix has degraded. It keeps resetting. Asking him to confirm his authorization. He has to restart whatever he's working on every hour or so. I've learned a lot of Prothean swear words today."

"I appreciate your sacrifice for the greater good."

"Thank you." That was accompanied by a smiling icon.

Shepard shifted her weight and typed, "Maybe you could bring Javik as your date to the festival. Sounds like you'll both need a breather."

"Ha, you are very funny."

"I think so."

A sternly frowning icon this time. "Go have fun, Shepard. You're on shore leave."

"Right. Don't forget to eat, Liara."

"I won't."

"She absolutely will," Shepard muttered as she dismissed the interface and headed back into the bunkroom, where she stopped, facing a dilemma. 

On the one hand, there was a sexy naked turian on the bed--granted, a sexy naked turian who was also checking his messages, but she had faith she could distract him if she really put her mind to it. 

On the other hand, she was hungry. 

For better or worse, hunger won. Her sexy turian agreed that it was time for dinner, and a few minutes later, they were outside again, in search of dinner and booze. When they reached the edge of the common area, a good number of people were already gathering, and tables were lined up along two of the four sides, laden with containers and bottles. Music was playing from somewhere, the scent of food and alcohol was thick in the air, and Shepard didn't need any cultural translation to see that a party was brewing.

_Now this,_ Shepard thought, _is shore leave._

As she took a step toward the tables, though, Garrus held her back. "Ah. We might want to...come up with a plan of attack, first."

Shepard blinked up at him. "What are we attacking? Besides the food?"

"Well, just FYI, if we don't play our cards right, we're probably both going to have to turn down some...ahem..._sparring_ proposals."

She blinked up at him. "Wait, _we both_? As in me?"

Garrus chuckled. "Yes, you. Skill, competence, and military prowess, Shepard. You're highly sexy, for any turian who knows your record and has even a _little bit_ of a thing for humans. Granted, that won't be everyone, but with all the drinking for the holiday, there'll probably be more looking to...try new things?"

"And they...?" A few things fell into place with a mental "thunk". Shepard turned to face him, voice dropping. "Wait. Wait, wait, so you weren't just joking about the orgies?"

He tilted his head at her. "Not really? I mean, there's not going to be rolling around in the streets...probably...but there'll be a lot of flirting and sleeping with different people for the hell of it. What, you didn't believe me?"

"I thought you were kidding!" she hissed. "Even you make jokes about turians being uptight."

Garrus just shook his head and spread his hands at her. "Yes, when we're working. But only the most unlucky bastards are working on Midsummer. Everyone else? 'Duty above all' might be on all the statues and medals, but 'Work hard, play hard' is the unofficial turian motto, and Midsummer?" He leaned down, nuzzling into her hair. "Firmly in the 'play hard' zone."

Shepard just tossed up her hands in defeat and sighed. "Okay. So what's the plan?"

"Couple things. Head-touching, hugging, and...a lot of this." He slipped an arm around her waist. "Some seriously involved kissing would probably do the trick, too."

Shepard mirrored him, slipping an arm around his waist and chuckling as they started walking again. "Scandalous."

"Not tonight," he said. "Aha. I rest my case."

Shepard turned to follow his line of sight, picking out Vega and Qualia in the crowd over by the refreshment tables. Vega was grinning and apparently telling some kind of story to the small group of Invictans they were standing with. Qualia, a smug tilt to her mandibles, had an arm draped quite firmly around Vega's waist.

Shepard chuckled, squeezing Garrus' hip once more before pulling away. "All right, loverboy. Come on. Let's eat."

"Right behind you."


End file.
